


Man With The Umbrella

by in_the_bottle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-18
Updated: 2010-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_the_bottle/pseuds/in_the_bottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> "Lestrade would probably have not noticed him if not for the umbrella he was carrying, on a sunny summer's morning."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man With The Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> My 3rd Sherlock fic. First 2 are still being edited. Ok, the 1st is being edited, but the 2nd won't make sense without the 1st, so I can't post it yet. First time I posted fic since... more than a year ago. And this is just a little scene that I couldn't get out of my head after I finished te first 2 fics, so, here you are. Many thanks to [](http://scribewraith.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**scribewraith**](http://scribewraith.dreamwidth.org/) for betaing.
> 
>  **Spoilers:** Set after end of s1.  
> 

Lestrade first saw the man at New Scotland Yard not long after he first consulted Sherlock Holmes for a case. Tall, expensive suit, air of self-importance, probably a mid to high-ranking departmental paper pusher. Lestrade would probably have not noticed him if not for the umbrella he was carrying, on a sunny summer's morning.

But since whatever it was that the Superintendent was discussing with the man didn't concern Lestrade, he didn't pay any further attention to him.

Over the next few years, Lestrade got used to seeing the man with the umbrella. He would occasionally see the man either entering or leaving the Super's office, but no one seemed to know who he was or which department he was from. Lestrade had once asked the Super about it, but all he got was a glare, as through Lestrade was responsible for the Super having to put up with the guy.

"Just keep that consulting detective of yours out of trouble. We can't afford the media attention if something happens to a civilian under our watch."

And if any new transfers happened to ask Lestrade about the man with the umbrella, his answer was: "Dunno. Higher ups. You know the sort." It was the same answer given to him when he was the one asking.

It was very much a surprise to Lestrade to see the man with the umbrella, in the waiting area at St. Bart's after the whole mess with the explosion at the pool, hugging the stuffing out of Sherlock Holmes. The strangest thing was, Sherlock was _letting_ him.

Lestrade had never seen Sherlock hugging anyone or being hugged by anyone before. He'd never thought Sherlock was the hugging type. The closest Lestrade had ever witnessed was the occasional arm around John Watson's shoulders. John Watson who was now in the operating theatre.

The man with the umbrella finally let go of his hold on Sherlock.

For a moment, Lestrade wondered if Sherlock was having an affair with the man with the umbrella, then he looked straight up at Lestrade with a gaze that was oddly familiar. It was the same expression he'd seen countless times on Sherlock when he was examining a particularly interesting piece of puzzle or evidence.

Lestrade made his way to the two men. Sherlock stepping back from the man and turning around when he heard Lestrade footsteps.

"I'll take care of it," Lestrade heard the man with the umbrella say.

"I can fight my own battles." Sherlock snapped, finally looking a bit more like himself.

"I don't doubt that, but Moriarty will be using all of his available resources which includes entire network of international underground criminals. It only makes sense that you use all resources available to you to level the playing field," the man said reasonably, and privately, Lestrade couldn't agree more.

Sherlock glared. Both of them were acting as though Lestrade wasn't standing right beside them. "All resources available to me? That would include you and _your_ resources then? What? You're pissed off because he used the Bruce-Partington plan as part of his plot?"

"Because he almost killed you," his voice was low, but cold enough to send a chill down Lestrade's spine. "And that is not acceptable, Sherlock. So I wish you would stop this childish posturing and let me help." But Sherlock still didn't looked like he was backing down. Lestrade wondered why he hadn't objected to being called childish.

"John's injured," the man said instead after a pause, and Sherlock visibly deflated at those two words: the man definitely knew which of Sherlock's buttons to push.

"Fine," Sherlock replied. "Do what you have to do. Not as though you'd listen even if I said no."

"But it's always so much better to get you to see reason first," the man quirked a small smile. "And I promise you can help once John's better and you've had some rest yourself. You do know his methods better than anyone else." He turned to Lestrade. "Detective Inspector Lestrade," he greeted.

Lestrade was not surprise that the man knew him.

"Came to tell Sherlock that there's no sign of Moriarty and his men?" It was phrased as a question, but Lestrade had a feeling it was meant as a statement and that the man knew exactly what Lestrade and his team didn't find.

"Yes," he answered. "The forensics team is still looking through the rubble – "

"Don't bother," Sherlock said. "You won't find anything."

Lestrade turned his attention to Sherlock, clothes in disarray, covered in dirt and dust from the debris. Various scrapes and bruises, a gash on his forehead that had been bandaged, but otherwise unharmed.

"I'll need a statement form you about what happened tonight."

"I'll leave you to it then," the man said. "Good evening, Detective Inspector." He nodded to Lestrade and left, a mobile appearing in his left hand as he strode towards the lift. "Everything ready? Good." Lestrade overheard before the lift doors slide shut.

"Who was that?" Lestrade asked before he consciously thought about it.

"Mycroft." Sherlock answered, settling himself carefully down onto one of the chairs in the waiting area looking ready to pass out.

"Mycroft." Lestrade repeated. That answered absolutely nothing at all.

"Mycroft Holmes. My brother. And must we do this now?"

Brother. The idea that there was another Holmes out there was rather terrifying, if he was completely honest. And a Holmes that seemed to put the fear of God into the Superintendent every time he stopped by at the Yard... Lestrade's brain simply did not want to go there. The glares he'd received from the Superintendent over the years did make much more sense now.

"What did he meant when he said he'll take care of it?" Lestrade asked, Mycroft's words from earlier finally registering.

"Now that he's properly pissed off, it'll probably mean there's nowhere on this Earth that Moriarty could hide that Mycroft couldn't find and accidentally direct a missile to. Or something equally dramatic."

"He can do that?"

"Of course he can." Sherlock answered, as though the idea of his brother not being able to track down an international criminal mastermind and order an invasion was ludicrous. Sherlock was on his feet in an instant when a doctor walked into the waiting area. Lestrade didn't miss Sherlock's slight wince at the sudden movement. Probably a few other minor injuries that Lestrade couldn't see then. "How's John? How is he?" Sherlock's concern was evident.

"We've repaired the damage to his lungs, and the broken ribs will take some time to heal, but he should make a full recovery. You'll be able to see him as soon as they get him settled in his room."

"Thank you," Sherlock said, looking relieved and impatient. Lestrade had never seen him so completely out of it, not after he'd given up the drugs, and definitely not out of concern for another human being, and Lestrade wondered what it was about John Watson that could make Sherlock care.

From the look of it, it wasn't likely he was going to be able to get anything out of Sherlock tonight.

"Take care of John, I'll come back tomorrow."

Tomorrow would have to be soon enough; Lestrade had a feeling that the higher ups wouldn't mind waiting a few more hours to get the details. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure the higher ups already knew all the details.

The End


End file.
